Against the Odds
by The Fictionist
Summary: Hunger Games AU. All Harry Potter wants to do is make sure he goes down fighting, to ensure that Ginny Weasley makes it back home. All Tom Riddle wants is survival, glory and above all - power. But only one person can survive the Hunger Games.


There was always a silence in the air before a reaping. It was a thick, suffocating silence - not quite the heavy calm before a storm, but undeniably similar.

It was more like the moment before an explosion, before impact, when all life faded but for the frantic hammering of hearts.

Tom refused to feel frightened this year.

Once upon a time, he'd line up in the square of District 5 with the same pinched terror as the others, thinking that maybe this year the odds would not be in his favour and that death was coming to drag him away in its sweet smelling, glittered garb.

Now, he'd stopped believing in any odds but his own and those he fought to create for himself. The odds weren't odds, it was all just a game, a stacking of names and slips and petty power games within the Capitol. Power was a necessary tool, and in his district he'd learned that from a very young age.

Most people would consider his district as a disadvantage, because working at a power plant offered no immediate skill for survival – no carrying of axes, or slipping silently through waters, and no knowledge of berries to know what to pluck from whatever arena was offered.

But Tom found his own lessons in his seventeen years of life to have been invaluable.

So, this year, with an accumulation of years of planning and baited breath, he would seize his own fate, his own glory, and his own power.

He put on his best smile and volunteered.

Then there was a very different kind of silence.

* * *

Harry should have known that this day was coming.

It was almost inevitable, really, and so it was all that he could do to steel his shoulders and grit his teeth as his name was plucked from the bowl. He walked stiffly up to the platform; avoided Ginny's eyes as he stood beside her, his death sentence ringing in his ears.

He felt like all of his limbs had softened like a rotten apple.

There was no applause from the rest of District 11, just that awful, sad weight in the air which was the best they could give him.

He'd been taking out tesserae for years, to scrape by himself under the Peacekeepers, the Head being Dursley, who despised him and his antics, and to help the others too. Like the Weasleys, with too many mouths to feed, or for the sake of any child who still had a family to mourn them should they be chosen.

He figured it was far better for his name to make up fifty percent of the tribute bowl, then to condemn another family to be ripped apart and know the loneliness that haunted his own steps.

At least he knew how to take a beating. That would help. Maybe. He hoped.

He'd known what he was signing himself up for either way, and he'd try and make sure Ginny would come back, with honour and enough food to share out among their friends and family for the year.

He bet they felt happy now. But it didn't matter  
He doubted he would be coming back. Maybe that had never even been the plan.

He was determined to go out fighting either way, because he'd been fighting all his life so he didn't see why he should stop now. He'd be with familiar friends in battle, with starvation and ruthless elements, and those who would wish him half.

Easy. There was a thick wedge in his throat despite his best efforts either way. He felt numb as he was shoved into the Justice Building, wondering if an hour of goodbyes would be nothing but silence.

He didn't expect how many came, the teary kiss he got from Mrs Weasley, or the small Phoenix pin his best friend Hermione gave him for luck - because a Phoenix always survived and rose from the ashes. He didn't let his throat thicken at that, didn't have the heart to confirm the grief already in her eyes. Didn't let his eyes squeeze shut until he was alone, throwing up all the rich food he'd only ever seen and never consumed in a speeding train.

Ginny had stared at him helplessly with puffy eyes as he sprinted from the table, her jaw clenched against her own fear.  
He'd given her a weak smile, dropped his eyes and slammed the door shut.

Wondered how many ways she'd thought to kill him instead of kiss him instead.

* * *

The other girl from his district, a weak, sickly looking waif of a specimen named Myrtle who'd harboured a crush on him once upon a time, looked like she was going to throw up the meal he himself found himself relishing.

He'd get used to dining like this, like a king instead of a street rat stuck in a squalor he didn't belong to. He rolled a sip of wine in his mouth, ignored her.

He wouldn't even need to kill her. He doubted she'd survive the initial blood bath. She looked like she knew it too, but he'd still run through what he knew about her. She could be useful. They all could be.

Because power was strength and fighting, woodland knowledge and the ruthlessness with which to execute a final blow. But power was also gleaming silver parachutes, popularity and adoring crowds, and people most of all.

He didn't know what he would find in the arena, but people were everywhere if one just knew how to make them spin.

The Hunger Games wouldn't know what was coming for them.

He sat watching the rest of the reapings, trying to pick out what he could use. He'd get close to the careers, prove himself to them, that was the first step on a very long plan with its bare bones erected long ago. Tried to think what else, but knew the training room and the interviews would be of the greatest benefit to his mind.

Myrtle trembled, watched him frightened eyes and fingers that twitched around a mug of hot chocolate.

He offered her a pleasant smile. Noticed his new mentor, Gellert Grindelwald, watching him carefully. He said nothing in response, tilted his head, deliberately slotted in the tape of the man's own games to watch him flinch and twitch, received a hard look in response.

Decided that maybe he'd at least got a good mentor, though Grindelwald was famed for his cruelty. He'd used brute strength to beat his own games, but he wasn't without intelligence or charm, and getting sponsors was all Tom would need him for with his own tactics already set.

The man barely glanced at Myrtle, who shrunk down even more in her clear dismissal.  
It seemed the board was already shifting.

He couldn't wait.

His time was coming.

Apparently his volunteering was the talk of the day.

* * *

Harry eventually forced himself to watch old tapes and reruns, under the insistence of his mentor, a burly man called Hagrid that seemed much too gentle to have won the games.

He'd won because he simply survived the longest, tamed the mutts in the arena around him, befriended them, and watched as they ripped the rest of the opponents apart to defend him. One would have thought he would use his hulking strength, but it seemed not.

Harry wasn't really sure what to think of him, if he was perfectly honest with himself.  
He didn't think he really had the capacity to train any of the mutations and use that against him, but maybe there was something of the idea of using the arena to his advantage.

Such a pity he didn't know what the arena was.  
At least he was used to starvation. Maybe that was his edge, and he was pretty handy with a knife or a scythe for bringing the harvest in. Maybe, best of all, he was small and light from years of running and climbing, and could 'fly' through the trees.

He really hoped there were trees in this arena, but he supposed that would be too much to ask for.

The Capitol was spectacular, but the extravagance sickened him like the food in his stomach, though he choked it down because he'd need it in the arena. Something solid, because starvation wasn't a good edge to start out with in something designed to leave him empty in all senses of the word.

The introductions of the champions was even worse. Ginny was clearly representing an apple with her red hair, and the material that wafted around her in a big bunch, practically see-through to try and emphasise a fiery sort of sex appeal. The audience seemed happy with her anyway.

Harry himself was trying not to feel ridiculous as a tree which apparently bought out the best of his eyes. He supposed he pulled off the stiffness. Maybe he was being too harsh, because as far as it went they weren't too ridiculous – District 12 was even worse and the cows of District 10 weren't much better. District 10 through to 12 were the poorest in descending order.

He supposed he should be lucky he wasn't 12.

The careers were strong as always – Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass from 1 gleaming like diamonds with their pale faces and glittering outfits, Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange from 2 in intimidating armour, looking every bit as dangerous as the weapons the district manufactured.

But the star of the show, surprisingly, was District 5. They had on a light, sort of green outfit that glowed like nuclear power, casting an almost eerie light onto the handsome face of the male – Riddle, was it? Bringing out an unearthly hue in his eyes. There was a similar costume for the girl, Myrtle. They looked like creatures from another world, shining like the electricity their district helped generate.

He supposed it was fitting.  
It didn't make him feel better at his own costume, even if they managed to not look like laughing stocks. At the best, they looked somewhat noble and grounded.

He supposed Agriculture was difficult to spin into a symbol of ferocity.

He'd just have to prove them wrong. Had to resist the urge to coax his horse into shoving the rest of them off their chariots so they looked like idiots, whilst pretending it was the fault of district 12.

He was glad to be released either way, feeling even worse about his chances then he had before, the audiences applause and his own fear swimming in his head as he just stumbled forward, trying not to throw up, and walking straight into said District 5.

His eyes widened, before going completely blank.  
Riddle looked back at him with an icy expression, assessing him and obviously finding him lacking.

"Watch yourself," the other still said, lightly, in a purr, still reaching out a hand to steady him. "Save losing your pretty head for the arena."

Then he was marching away, dismissively.

"What a git," Ginny muttered to him, glaring after the boy. Harry said nothing. Watched him go. Didn't engage because that would just make all of this harder.

He'd always been good at being invisible too. Going unnoticed.  
Maybe that would be his tactic.

He walked away, never realizing the way the other glanced back at him, eyes slightly narrowed with thought.

* * *

**_A/N: So, I've finished reading Mockingjay today, and thought I'd give you this, even if it's not very good, before I go awol without internet and means to post for a bit. I hope you like it, and please note that most of my ideas are for after this point which is why the beginning is so rushed and slightly crap. Though that's not really an excuse, I just don't think dragging out the train journey is really going to help much when the chunk of this story will be in the arena and you can probably guess the majority of what's going on. More next time anyway. So hard trying to pick districts...speaking of...I'm aware that neither Harry nor the Weasleys fit the physical attributes ascribed to District 11, but in terms of background it seemed the best one to go for, and Prim and Katniss' mother didn't look like 12 either, so maybe that's my excuse. That, and HP doesn't fit Hunger Games so well in names and the little custom details, so you'll have to bear with me a bit. Anyway. Reviews much appreciated, hope you're not too disappointed. Next should be either more of this, Sobriquet or Folie a Deux. Adios! May the odds be ever in your favour!_**

**_Title and summary subject to change, I just really need to go to sleep and couldn't think of anything clever under pressure. Sorry. I did consider "Phoenix Rising", "Of Phoenixes and Basilisks" and all manner of pathetic things, but nothing really jazzed. Sorry. I will get back to you lot on that!_**


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